Vault 512
by Rayniekinnz
Summary: Drabbles following Harry and Lucius as they are forced into co-habitation due to an attempted robbery at Gringotts Bank. LM/HP Preslash. M - Language. Crack. Repost!


**Prelude**

'_Fuck_,' he thought miserably, head spinning as he fought not to lose whatever might have been in his stomach. Possibly some bread crusts…

He had been waiting patiently for his turn at the bank, chatting idly with a witch he thought he knew from Third Year when the doors and windows suddenly exploded. He had been astounded, but managed to hide the witch under a fallen desk before being dragged away by two unfamiliar men. Thankfully they didn't seem to notice her pained moan.

"Move and I'll fucking kill you!" someone shrieked in the lobby, voice high with panic as he was flung into a small metal room. Shakily, he tried to get to his feet, but was smashed in the back of the head and sent to the floor, chin throbbing dully where it slammed into the ground. His wand rolled out of his pocket, quickly snatched up by one of his captors.

"Make a sound and you'll get it!" one of them hissed, the other tossing a sack in beside him before the door was slammed shut, swathing him in darkness.

He hated the dark.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Three: Hello, Hello Again<strong>

"Sit _still_, Potter! Your incessant tapping is _infuriating_!"

Harry huffed to himself but complied, curling up against the wall so he could peer across the room, just making out the blurry outline of Malfoy Sr. He had woken at least a half an hour before to find his glasses cracked and useless, stabbing into the side of his face. He was feeling a little stir-crazy, not used to sitting in the same spot for so long - or, really, he hadn't had to for a long time.

He would have moved around, but Malfoy seemed to have made a little barrier so he'd have to suffer minor Stinging Hexes if he got too close. A little childish and a waste of magic – how come they didn't take_his _wand?! – but he wasn't crazy enough yet that he'd dare anger the man more than he already had when he had nothing to defend himself with and poorer vision than usual.

Sighing quietly, he leaned his head against the cool wall, closing his straining eyes. He _still_ couldn't believe Lucius Malfoy had let himself be taken captive by some regular hijackers, but it made for a lighter atmosphere – at least, he thought so, when he could snicker about how high and mighty the man looked sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor, hair dishevelled and cane missing. He supposed Malfoy had slipped his wand out when they weren't looking, but it helped little as the vault, as he had learned, couldn't be opened from the inside.

Bloody trouble-magnet.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Five: Noughts &amp; Crosses<strong>

He was so bored.

He hadn't a clue how long they had been there – hours, days, months? – all he knew was that there was only so many times you could count your breaths before it got ridiculously boring. So boring he'd hold it instead, just to mix it up.

Harry rolled his head to the side, humming a tune he had heard on his Aunt's radio that summer. It was pretty catchy and annoying, but Malfoy had only complained five times before giving up and seemingly 'meditating'. He idly wondered if the yogi's also snored like that.

He blinked suddenly, lifting his hand and staring at the imprint left on the floor. The dust had settled around and on them in thick, sooty layers, encouraged by their minimal movement. He drew a smiley face, vaguely aware Malfoy had started staring at him.

"What are you doing?" the man asked after a short silence, sounding weary.

Harry shrugged, but brightened somewhat a moment later. "Wanna play 'Noughts and Crosses'?"

"…Fine."

* * *

><p><strong>Day Seven: Therapy, Doctor<strong>

He shuddered, hugging his torso and leaning his forehead on his knees, breathing shallowly. He felt awful; dehydrated, hungry and the walls seemed to be closing in on him, stealing oxygen and ringing in his skull.

Malfoy was staring at him, he could feel it, but it wasn't in disgust or even pity; merely understanding.

He trembled, teeth chattering with the force and fingers twitching uncontrollably. He tried to stand but fell to his knees, grasping at the floor and heaving as it finally got too much. He could picture the cupboard, felt the way he had years ago, when he was forced inside after eight hours of freedom. Panic, disgust, fear, helplessness.

He gasped, jerking violently as his head suddenly cleared. His gaze snapped up, but he only caught the rustle of robes as Malfoy tucked his wand away.

He refused to meet his eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Nine: Brittle<strong>

"I miss jam," he said mournfully, staring at the dry crackers and water they had left. It wasn't much at all, only one stack and four medium flasks.

"Jam?" Lucius replied. "Why?"

He shrugged, nibbling on a cracker and cringing as it scratched his throat on the way down. "Jam's good."

"...right," the blond said. "Jam is good."

* * *

><p><strong>Day Eleven: Club Death Eater<strong>

"All I'm saying is, I don't get it! Sure, he probably wasn't as crazy back then, but you must have seen_something_ off about him!"

Lucius sneered at him, but didn't deny it. "His goals were on par with mine. I was offered a chance and I took it."

"...you're an idiot."

"..."

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirteen: Damage Inc.<strong>

'So cold,' he thought sluggishly, struggling to sit up. "O-oi...Lucius...C-cast a warming charm or s-something!" He waited, blinking sleepily, but when no reply came he frowned, squinting. "L-Lucius...Malfoy? M-Malfoy?!"

His heart thumped heavily in his chest, stomach dropping. He jerked, somehow righting himself on all floors and dragging himself across the icy tiles. He ignored the little warning hexes, vaguely annoyed Lucius hadn't thought to take the barrier down, and grasped filthy cloth with numb fingers. He fumbled with the layers, finally dragging the sleeve back enough to feel the cool flesh and slight pulse.

He sighed, relieved, but couldn't help slumping against the man as a wave of dizziness claimed him. He was so tired and hungry and sore and colder than he'd ever been before, his blood like ice in his veins. Harry fought the weariness, tugging at the thick cloak and shimmying until they were chest-to-chest and cloak just closing around his back, face buried in the man's cool neck. If it wasn't for the barely-there pulse he would think he was hugging a corpse.

He certainly felt like one.

* * *

><p>"I've found them!"<p>

"Oh Merlin, are they alive?! Quick, we need medical assistance! Fuck, it's freezing in here!"

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue <strong>

He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he dragged himself upright. Sighing, he tried not to be disappointed when he saw Lucius still hadn't come to visit him.

It had been several days since their rescue and they had both stayed at St. Mungo's overnight before he was transferred to Pomfrey's care and Lucius to the manor, he had been told. They were in bad shape, he had learned; dehydrated, starving, on the verge of Hypothermia and slightly delusional. Easily treated with the fast work of the Healers on duty, but he wouldn't be allowed out of the infirmary for another week or so.

Hearing the door, he silently hoped it wasn't Hermione with more of her 'you scared me half to death' shit, gaping slightly when an awkward, sullen-looking Draco stalked towards his bed, scowling at his expression.

"Potter," he grumbled.

"...Malfoy," he said, raising an eyebrow at the box under his arm. "What's that?"

"I don't know," he said, dumping it onto his lap. "My father asked me to give it to you. He said that he's been busy with the Aurors and business and that you shouldn't take offense."

Harry smiled slightly, ignoring the blond's quizzical look. He unwrapped the box, blinking in surprise when it revealed a gorgeous leather satchel. Peeking out of the top was his Hogwarts letter, every item required for that year ticked off with red ink. He was about to reach into the bag, sure it was one of those ones that could hold anything, when he spied a stack of parchment at the bottom of the box.

'Gringotts Bank', it read in black, sophisticated letters.

"What is it?" Draco asked, noticing his shocked expression.

"Forms for the final stage of claiming a vault...Vault 512, joint-custody of Harry James Potter and Lucius Abraxas Malfoy."

"What on earth for?"

Harry laughed in delight, showing him the forms. Right there under 'Storage' in Lucius Malfoy's lilting script was one simple, three letter word.

_Jam._

**Finis**.

* * *

><p>A set of drabbles from what seems like forever ago. I will eventually write the original plot-line, but for now I will content myself with this ridiculousness.<p> 


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